


Just Enough

by PreseaMoon



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hakuryuu is sick. Kouen is treading along the edge of a line he has not yet earned the right to cross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> For age, Hakuryuu is probably 7-ish, making Kouen around 18.

Kouen is treading along the edge of a line he has not yet earned the right to cross. That’s what he’s thinking when he gently shuts Hakuryuu’s bedroom room behind him. The bedside lamp’s reach creates a flickering division Kouen must breach. Beyond that division are uncertainties, all contained within a hurting boy who does not accept him as a brother, who may never accept him as such.

Thinking of Hakuryuu as his brother has been second nature since before the revolt that took the emperor’s life. It was practically inevitable with how the youngest prince followed Hakuyuu and Hakuren wherever they went, and sometimes needed to be transferred to whichever family member happened to be closest, frequently Kouen. He never minded. Being personally entrusted with the crown prince’s beloved youngest brother was an honor.

If it were before the revolt, if either Hakuyuu or Hakuren still lived, Kouen would not oppose taking this duty explicitly intended for a brother as much as he does. His substitution would not feel like an attempt to replace something lost. But at a time such as this, Kouen is not—nor will he ever be—the one Hakuryuu is seeking and hoping for. To come to him anyway borders on cruel.

Hakuei claimed Hakuryuu delirious enough to likely forget any of this transpiring. As if that would make Kouen more inclined to acquiesce when it actually made him feel the opposite. Acting won’t necessarily affect Hakuryuu on a subconscious level, but Kouen wants to earn acceptance by his own merit rather than through any perceivable deception.

But to leave Hakuryuu as he is for those reasons would be selfishness of the highest order. Despite all of his reservations, Kouen believes doing nothing would be the greater disservice to Emperor Hakutoku and his children. 

And so Kouen takes step after assured step until he reaches Hakuryuu’s bedside. The lamp’s low light and the moon obscured by dozens of rain clouds render all space beyond the bed a dark blur, the corners pits of darkness. Most of Hakuryuu’s face is shadowed and the blankets covering him are thick, piled so high there isn’t an outline of his body. His short breaths are labored, and even with the poor light, Kouen can see the flush in his cheeks clearly. 

Hakuryuu’s eyes are closed, but Kouen can’t tell if he’s asleep or not. Occasionally his brow furrows and his eyes clench tighter, as though pained or plagued by a nightmare. Neither would be surprising.

He reaches out to Hakuryuu’s forehead. His hand is large enough it covers his eyes and just past the hairline, all unbearably warm, feverish. The heat is as expected. Hakuei had said it to be searing, but it appears that is no longer the case, which Kouen is thankful for.

Kouen shifts his hand into the mess of Hakuryuu’s hair. While the hair itself is slightly damp, the skull it covers is hot and dry under Kouen’s fingers. When he settles his hand further, Hakuryuu does not stir at first, but then he mumbles something there’s no hope of deciphering and edges slightly towards Kouen, into his touch.

Kouen kneels, placing his other hand near Hakuryuu’s arm. He takes a measured breath. “Hakuryuu, I,” He starts and then stops, wondering if his words will mean anything other than cowardice when spoken to someone who cannot hear him. He did not come here to comfort an unconscious child, and he certainly didn’t come here out of deference to his own desires.

There are important words he must share with Hakuryuu. He continuously tells himself that the right time has not appeared. In truth he does not know how to speak to his cousin turned brother. The words are jumbled in his mind; when they finally leave they will certainly sound harsher than he intends.

There is nothing to say if he cannot say what he needs to. Not even empty words of comfort are welcome. Kouen does not think the unconscious Hakuryuu would find his voice soothing.

But as he turns and takes a step there is a barely there tug on his sleeve. When he turns, Hakuryuu’s arm is outstretched, already fallen back to the bed, but his fingers reach for Kouen. His eyes are barely open, like that little bit is a great effort.

“B...Brother," he calls out softly, timidly, looking at Kouen and not seeing him.

Kouen crouches before he has a chance to hesitate. He takes Hakuryuu’s small warm hand between his, loosely, letting heat seep through the cracks.

“Brother,” he says again, “I’m sorry.”

Against his better judgment, Kouen asks, “For what?”

“For… For…” Hakuryuu swallows, tears at the corner of his eyes, and then he recedes, ducking under the blanket that hangs over his chin.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Kouen then says, figuring Hakuryuu must be apologizing for something beyond his control, such as the death of his family or for being sick.

It takes a few minutes, but eyes peek out, wide and mismatched, glistening with unshed tears. “Are you… Are you going to leave?” 

Kouen takes a measured breath. “I will not leave.” 

Hakuryuu nods, but it causes him to cringe, allowing tears to slip free when his eyes shut against the pain. The blankets move where his other hand his buried, and Kouen can feel tension in the hand he holds as Hakuryuu attempts to hide his head back under the blanket.

With less hesitation than anticipated, Kouen’s hand finds its way to Hakuryuu’s face and swipes across the tears on one side. “There is no shame in crying, Hakuryuu. No matter the reason. How do you feel?”

“Hot. Head hurts.” He pulls away gradually. “Kouen, is my sister okay?”

“Of course,” Kouen says, keeping any hint of surprise from his voice and expression.

Hakuryuu’s hand tightens into a weak and trembling fist. “Where is she?”

“Taking a break. She will be back.”

Earlier he was worse. Kouen remembers checking in and finding Hakuryuu inconsolable no matter what Hakuei said or did. That was part of why he’d been resistant to come, if Hakuei could not comfort him, what hope did Kouen have? But Hakuei was unrelenting, panicked and at the end of her rope; seeing her so close to tears was difficult.

“Am I okay?”

Kouen’s hand goes back to Hakuryuu’s forehead, not stopping at the subtle flinch he receives as he closes in. It is still too warm. “Yes. You will be.”

Hakuryuu’s eyes start to drift shut again. “Why are you here?”

Hakuryuu not feeling a need to ask that would be good as far as reasons go. “Because we are family. We have always been family,” he adds so Hakuryuu won’t immediately align what he’s said to the marriage of Gyokuen and Koutoku.

“Oh,” he says in a manner so listless it cannot be entirely blamed on illness.

Hakuryuu carefully rolls to his side. He takes a shaking breath. “I miss my family.” He speaks quietly, just above a whisper, like he fears anyone hearing, including Kouen.

“I know,” Kouen says, almost as soft. His hand brushes back a loose lock of hair. “I miss them too.”

Hakuryuu looks at him, eyes impossibly sad. “You’re going to stay?” So quiet Kouen does almost miss it.

“If I may. Would you mind?”

Hakuryuu stares for a long time, expression blank, before he finally shakes his head once and breathes out, “No.” He curls in and looks to Kouen a little shamefully, from under his eyelashes as though to hide it. “You can stay.”

Kouen’s hand closes around Hakuryuu’s, and he figures this start is the best one he could hope for.


End file.
